Revenge of the Lost
by Trooper 3.6
Summary: Claire Redfield thought she could move on, but old memories seldom fade. After the events of RE6, a seemingly unstoppable terrorist has appeared and is hunting down any remnants of Umbrella around the world. The UN believes Claire has some connection to it all. Who is the mysterious unstoppable lone man who can't be killed and decimates armies.
1. Chapter 1

Claire Redfield sat nervously in the waiting room. She had been dragged from her office cubical at Terra-Save head quarters by four armed suits with guns. They were federal agents, they had no arrest warrant but they warned her it was a matter of national security. They herded her to a black van with blacked out windows, she repressed her urge to make a snarky comment about how it looked like a rape-van. She figured they'd insist it was a spy-van. It looked very much like a rape-van to her though. The drive from New York City to Washington DC was long and quiet. They pulled up to an office building, which she recognized as not being too far away from the FBI building. They lead her in without saying a word. They brought her through the lobby and up an elevator to the waiting room she was currently sitting in.

She was worried for a while that it had something to do with Chris. She had been worried sick about him since he went missing on Christmas Eve. She'd been informed that they'd found him and that he had a case of post traumatic stress amnesia, but she received a phone call after his latest mission (two months ago) from Chris, telling her he'd gotten his memory back and he'd be home as soon as he was done wrapping things up in China. She knew if it were about Chris, she'd be talking to someone at the BSAA office, which was in another building.

After a few hours, constantly being watched by the armed suits, a door to a nearby conference room opened and a woman in a black suit emerged. She had graying hair, probably in her late forties or early fifties. She wore glasses and had a cold calculating look on her face. Claire didn't think she'd be getting along with her, or anyone else in this building, very well.

"Ms. Redfield," she said, more as an order than a question. Claire took that as a cue to stand up. The woman regarded her with a stiff nod. "This way please," she said, though her voice showed no signs of politeness and much more of a commanding sense. She followed the woman into the room. There were three empty chairs in a neat row in the middle of the room; the chairs were surrounded by a semi-circular table. There was a large UN crest hung up on the wall in the back of the room. So she was answering to the UN for something, Claire was taken aback by this. She had thought herself to be on relatively good terms with the UN, especially with her association with Terra-Save; which was recognized and even funded in part by the UN. There were several men and women at the table, with little posts with their respective countries flags on them. The woman, who ordered her inside, was from England (which Claire figured based on her accent). There was another, younger, man from England, a there were five different men from China, two from Germany, two from Russia and one from France. They all looked at her pointedly as she came into the room. The English Woman motioned her to the three chairs. Claire sat down in the middle one.

"Ms. Claire Redfield," the English woman announced. "Survivor of Raccoon City, single handedly assaulted an Umbrella Corporation head quarters in Paris, Imprisoned on Rockfort Island (off the coast of South Africa), escaped to Antarctica, rescued by her brother (Chris Redfield of the BSAA). A Literature Major, working for the Activist organization Terra-Save, was present at the Harvardville Airport T- virus outbreak and have been working for Terra-Save ever since," she read from an opened paper file. "Only family still living is your brother Chris, no husband, no boyfriend who's ever lasted longer than a few months," she finished; her cold arrogant demeanor dominant. She was seated at the center of the semi-circular table; she was looking Claire square in the eyes.

"Would someone mind telling me why I'm here?" Claire asked, frustrated and angry. She figured the Government would have kept a file on her and maybe kept tabs on her, but not the UN. She didn't realize she was such a person of interest. "And what does my personal life have to do with any of this?" she demanded.

"You are here by order of the UN and given the circumstances the UN's authority supersedes everything including American Federal Law," the woman snapped. "The charges to be held against you, if any, will be defined as these hearing proceeds," she went on. Claire was starting to realize why hardcore American conservatives dislike the UN.

"How does the UN have authority here? What's this all about?" asked Claire.

"What this has to do with, Ms. Redfield, is a very dangerous man," explained the woman. "A terrorist, he has attacked and destroyed three Chinese government facilities as well as facilities of Russia and Germany in the past two months, he single handedly wiped out all of China's combat ready Special Forces units," she went on. "Last month, the Chinese army lured him and his cohorts into a trap with an entire army division, he got away. Crack snipers of the UK, Germany and Russia have emptied full clips at this man and have hit nothing but air!" her voice betrayed a high amount of tension and fear. "We have reason to believe that you may be associated with this man, Ms. Redfield, whether you realize it or not. If you are or have been in contact with this man in any way shape or form, you must tell us now. If you aren't or have not, then your input on this man could be instrumental in stopping him. Do you understand me?"

Claire was speechless. She had no idea what they were talking about. None of this had been on the news, which didn't surprise her. Anything this big and this dangerous would be kept under wraps. But she'd said it was mostly done by one man. Chris had told her once about the Chinese Special Forces; they were relatively new, but drew inspiration from the Red Guardians of the Chinese Cultural Revolution. They were fanatically loyal to the Communist Party, were well trained and very tough. Chris had served with them on counter-terrorism ops around the world. He'd told her they weren't much for conversation; she could tell he didn't like them at all. But what did this have to do with her. She didn't know anyone capable of doing all that, not that she knew of anyway.

"I have no idea what you're talking about, but if I can help I will," Claire said with the utmost sincerity. The woman looked at her pointedly, and then nodded.

"I believe you Ms. Redfield," she began. "As you can see, we are expecting a few more ladies here; whom I believe you know," she said motioning to the two seats on either side on Claire. "But let us continue to talk while we wait for them. If you wouldn't mind Ms. Redfield, please explain to us the events that occurred on Rockfort Island and in Antarctica in late 1998," she finished. Claire was taken aback by this; they had to have read her statement in her profile. Claire opened her mouth to ask why, when the English woman cut her off. "I ask you this because parts of your report are vague, and our problem is directly linked to your experiences. Please allow me to narrow what we are asking down," she said and adjusted herself, she exchanged glances briefly with the young Englishman sitting to her left then turned her attention back to Claire. "What role exactly did the young man Steven Burnside, play in your escape from the Island and what happened to him in Antarctica?" she asked.

Claire chocked back a tidal wave of emotions when she mentioned his name. She had tried not to think about him for years, each time she thought she'd gotten him out of her head, he came back. Usually in dreams; not nightmares like most of her other dreams involving the things which happened to her in 1998. Her dreams of him were usually her happiest, but when she'd wake up the bitter pain of her lose overwhelmed her. She would awake late at night and cry herself back to sleep. She'd tried falling in love with other men; she thought she had a few times, but in the end none of them could make her forget. Maybe she didn't really want to. She told the English woman and the rest of the UN representatives a more detailed version of what happened on the island, it took a while. She told them how Steve had opened up to her over time, and saved her life by putting a bullet in his father's head (he'd been infected with the T-virus. She told them how they'd escaped together and had been captured by Alexia Ashford, how he 'd been infected with the T-Veronica strain and mutated into a large rage filled giant but saved her life before Alexia killed him and how his body reverted back to his human form before he died. She told them her brother and she escaped the facility just in time to avoid being killed by the self destruct.

"Did he have any last words?" asked the Englishman. Claire was taken back, not only by the question but by the man's voice. His voice was deep and had a dark sense to it. His eyes and hair were both a dark brown. He was handsome but Claire sensed something sinister about him.

"What does that matter?" asked Claire, wanting to keep at least that much to herself. The man stood up from his seat.

"I imagine that you two became very close in the short time that you knew each other," he said as he began pacing around to the end of the table. His face and voice expressed no emotion, she could tell he wasn't mocking her but he made her feel uneasy all the same. "You were both isolated, he was the only one in the facility not actively trying to kill you, he saved your life, even put his father down to save you. You said that he put himself in danger a number of times for your sake and even gave his life to protect you when his body had been mutated beyond the ability for any human being to have any control of himself," the man explained. "If I were lying on my death bed after saving a woman's life and having the mental and will power to fight against the loss of my own mind to protect her even knowing it would lead to my death, I imagine I would say something along the lines of…I love you," he finished.

Claire's breath caught in her throat. She strained every nerve in her body to hold back tears. The man was right, but she couldn't bring herself to acknowledge it. Her pride wouldn't let her. She'd once learned that pride came before the fall. But she felt that complying with him at this point would be to surrender. Who was this guy? How did he manage to figure it out? She had told them very little about her and Steve's social interactions and conversations.

"Who the hell are you?" she managed to ask, her voice sounding very close to a growl. Her eyes were twisted in frustration to the point of a glare.

"This man is Captain Robert McMorris," explained the English woman, as he moved toward the inner middle of the table stopping just in time to not obstruct the English woman's view. "He is a sniper of the British Special Air Service; he has recorded over three hundred confirmed combat kills around the world. He also has a doctorate in British Literature (one of your specialties) and a bachelor's degree in psychology," she explained. "This man is one of the snipers who tried to stop the terrorist we're after. He has been pursuing him ever since he surfaced in China; in the backdrop of the attack on Lanshing. Not only is he a hardened veteran but he is frankly one of the smartest men on this planet. He is here to consult and to assist in questioning," she finished with a sense of pride, no doubt Capt Morris was a prized trophy to the British government as well as the UN. Claire looked at him in question, which he took as a prompt to continue.

"Do you know what the meaning of love is, Ms Redfield?" he asked. Claire looked back at him blankly. "In this day and age so many people have distorted views and misconceptions about love," he went on. "Like most bad things of this century, it started after the first World War. Women whose husbands came home from the war bitter, traumatized and even maimed insisted on getting divorces because they simply didn't sign on for that kind of an emotional burden. And of course in the 60s and 70s there were the hippies and their so called 'free love' movement. In that time, they use to say that love means never having to say you're sorry," he continued with a bitter chuckle. "There are few people more delusional then them in the annals of history. To this day people in modernized cultures all over the world view love in a purely hedonistic and shallow way, all about sexual intrigue and the glory of physical intimacy," he continued, pacing around Claire's chair and waving his arms with enthusiasm. Claire seriously doubted the man's sanity, even though she knew that the man was dead on about society. "But do you know what the true meaning of love is?" he asked. He paused with his back to her, as if waiting for her to answer.

"Sacrifice," she answered. She repressed another wave of emotion. McMorris turned on his heel and gazed into her eyes. He raised his hands and softly applauded her.

"Well done, Ms. Redfield," he congratulated her, as a teacher acknowledges a favored pupil. She felt he was patronizing her. "Then wouldn't you say Steven Burnside did love you?" he asked. "Isn't that why, you've managed to stay single all this time. And burry yourself in work trying to prevent another nightmarish outbreak like the one you experienced?" he asked, seemingly rhetorically. Claire lowered her head as a single tear rolled down her cheek. "I will take that as a yes," he said. Claire sniffed hard and winched as she took control of her emotions back.

"Well, now that you've made a complete dog and pony fiasco of my personal life," Claire began, barely concealing her rage. "Would you mind telling me how any of this is relevant?" she demanded. Just then, the door behind her opened. She turned to see two women, she knew both of them. One was Rebecca Chambers and the other was Jill Valentine, both were dressed casually and wore the same confused expressions on their faces as she did when she came in. There were four armed suits behind them. "Jill, Rebecca!" she greeted them. They were both delighted to see her. They asked her what she was doing there.

"Ladies," called the English woman. "If you would all please sit down, we will continue this hearing," she said. The woman explained all she had to Claire earlier. Rebecca and Jill both agreed to answer any questions they could. "Now for starters, I trust you're all at least somewhat familiar with these men," she said as she handed McMorris two large photographs, which he handed the three women sitting side by side. They were mug shots of Carlos Oliveira and Billy Cohen. Jill knew Carlos and explained how he had helped her escape Raccoon City. Rebecca was shocked to see the photo of Billy Cohen but told them how he and she had fought through the mountains the night before the incident at the Mansion outside Raccoon City and that he was killed in the fighting, as she had explained years earlier. "Have you heard from Carlos Olivier since the Raccoon City incident?" she asked Jill. She hadn't. "Was Billy Cohen's body ever found?" she asked. It hadn't. "Mr. Cohen's body was actually discovered over a year ago, in China," the woman explained.

"What?" Rebecca gasped in shock.

"It was indeed," she said. "In fact his body assisted in breaking into a secured Chinese government facility in Beijing and killed several Chinese soldiers and policemen before vanishing again without a trace," said stiffly. Rebecca's face was distorted in shock, though Claire was certain there was a sense of relief in her eyes at the last part of what the woman had said. "How certain were you that he was dead?" the woman asked. Rebecca looked back at her blankly. "If you continue to cooperate with us, I assure you that we will not expose you for your false report, Ms. Chambers," she said with a cocky grin. "Have you had any contact with Billy Cohen since the incident in the mountains?" she asked.

"No!" replied Rebecca. "I let Billy go because he saved my life. I haven't heard from him in any way since," she said. The woman seemed convinced and asked Jill the same question about Carlos.

"No, not since we expose Umbrella," Jill answered. "He helped ups fight Umbrella security and helped gain the proof we needed to expose the corporation for what they'd done. Then we went our separate ways," she said. The woman looked at her pointedly but did not press the matter. She handed McMorris another photo, he handed it to them. It was a photo of four men walking down a sidewalk in a busy city, where were Chinese letters on signs near them; betraying that the photo was taken in China. Billy Cohen and Carlos Oliveira were among them but the three of them didn't recognize the other two.

"The other two men in the photo are Bruce McGivern and Kevin Ryman," the English woman explained. "Bruce McGivern is an American agent, who fought against Umbrella after the Raccoon City incident. He was active up until he went into hiding two months ago after the US government declassified his operation in Beijing last year," she said. "Kevin Ryman, is another survivor of Raccoon City, he enlisted in the US Army soon after and when the BSAA was formed he joined them. McGivern recruited him into his own team and the four of these men, with inside help attacked a Chinese government medical facility, stealing sensitive information from the database and a high profile asset of the Chinese government," she explained.

"What was the asset they stole?" Claire asked. The woman looked at her blankly.

"A powder cage," she answered. Claire was about to ask for clarification.

"A living weapon of mass destruction," said Capt. McMorris.

[1 year earlier]

Bruce McGivern looked out the window of the RV. It was a large RV, capable of comfortably fitting a big family, it had its own facility, kitchen, TV and air conditioning to assure the comforts of home. And it gave the four men who lived in it enough space to live comfortably, tension had been very high from the start with his team, but he knew they were the best ones for the job. They all had experience with BOWs and shared a strong distain for any remnants of Umbrella Corporation. But he knew they weren't going to like this, he didn't know about the rendezvous point until they pulled up (other than the address his contact had left him). It was a sad old building on a less populated end of Beijing. A neon light sign read "Bar" in Chinese, with an arrow pointing down a concrete staircase to the basement of the building.

"You never said anything about the rendezvous being in a damn basement," Billy Cohen grumbled.

"I didn't know," Bruce replied, running his hand through his short yellow beard.

"Thought you said it was going to be at a Cantina, Amigo?" asked Carlos from the driver's seat.

"It is," said Bruce.

"A bar in a basement," Billy growled. "There are a number of problems with fighting in a basement," Billy explained, with repressed anger. "For one thing, you're fighting in a basement!" he finished, almost shouting. "What was that one thing they always told us in boot camp about shit running downhill?" he asked rhetorically.

"I never went to boot camp, Chico," said Carlos. "I'm self taught," he said with a grin.

"There won't be any fighting," Bruce broke in, not wanting anymore bickering between Carlos and Billy; they hadn't exactly gotten along with each other the whole time. "If there is any trouble, I can handle it. But word has it, hardly anyone goes here this time of the week. I'm just going to meet with our contact, get the plan cleared up and that will be it. We'll move out first thing tomorrow morning. Make off in the getaway vehicle, case closed, time for a cold one," he said with his habitual sense of optimism.

"Let me get this straight," said Kevin sitting with his legs crossed on the couch, facing away from the window. "You're going to meet with our contact, a woman you may or may not be able to trust. She chose the meeting place, it's in a basement and you're going in unarmed?" he asked.

"Yep," replied Bruce.

"Great plan, boss!" said Kevin. "Color me jubilant!" he sneered.

"Relax," said Bruce. "Just keep an eye on things and if any cop or army vehicles pull up just radio me," he explained. "If worse comes to worse, break out the hard liquor," he said and nodded toward a stack of metal cases behind the driver's seat; the ones containing LMGs and RPGs. Bruce stepped toward the door, checking himself in a small mirror from his pocket. He was dressed casually in an "I Heart China" t-shirt and jeans. Satisfied with himself, he reached for the door handle.

"You signal us if anything goes wrong in there, Bruce," warned Billy. Bruce looked over his should at his team.

"If I'm not back within an hour, everything should be fine," he said with a wink. He exited the RV. The other three men slouched collectively.

"He might have at least asked her to bring her friends," Kevin grumbled.

Bruce and Ling had gone over the plan relatively quickly. She told him where the BOW was and how she was going to make her way to it. But she revealed a colossal new development. The scientists had not only stabilized the mutation but reversed it to the point where it no longer ran the risk of spreading out of control. The specimen maintained its original form and could no longer pass the virus on to others. The specimen's body was stronger, faster and with better reflexes than any human being. Its senses were heightened as well, hearing and seeing were excellent. But after a second beer, she handed him a file. He opened it to see a photograph of the specimen, with a personal profile. He read through it. There was one mystery solved.

"Well we certainly can't kill the specimen now, can we?" he asked his on again-off again wife.

"Technically we can," she replied with a flirtatious giggle. "I didn't think you'd want to though."

"You want to?" he asked her.

"No," she replied. "Old habits talking, I guess," she said.

"Most love stories are about a woman changing a man," said Bruce with his own flirty grin. "Funny how this love story turned out," he said with a wink. "Not that I'm complaining. I still consider myself the luckiest man on earth for having you."

"What makes you think, we've made up?" asked Ling with a raised eyebrow. Bruce grinned, almost pleadingly.

"Tomorrow is going to be dangerous," he pointed out. "You don't want to let your husband go out into harm's way without making up, do you?" he asked. She smiled sweetly and brought her hand up to his cheek, brushing through his beard. Then she ran her hand through her husband's grown out blonde hair. She leaned forward and kissed him tenderly. Bruce broke away from the kiss after about five seconds. "Tell me again, what were we fighting about?" he asked.

"Something stupid," she answered. "Like last time," she finished and pecked a kiss on his lips.

"Last time, was when you ran away from the family farm in the middle of the night; with no explanation," he said. Bruce thought back to that summer (ten years ago) when he brought Ling home to the family in Texas. He'd been wise enough to tell them about her ahead of time, thus avoiding any frustrations from Hollywood romantic comedies about interracial couples meeting the soon to be in-laws without telling them anything about the race difference. The family loved her and she was happy beyond words to be accepted by them. The love making of the following night was proof enough of that. But the next morning she was gone. Bruce was devastated for months. Eventually she got word to him that she had run off because she was afraid that the Chinese government would make trouble for Bruce and his family. Another month went by and she showed up at his front door in the middle of the night. They married in secret in a small chapel in the country side. She kept doing her job for the government, which by now was mainly desked, and he kept doing his job (sometimes with inside help from her).

"That's not fair Bruce," she sighed.

"Don't worry, I'm not mad anymore," he reassured her with a smile. He took her cheek into his hand. "How about we make up for lost time?" he asked. The look on her face was all the answer he needed. Bruce paid their tab and ordered a room for the night, for two. They made up for lost time. After the love making, Bruce lay awake for a while before falling asleep. The mission had changed from sabotage to rescue. He had a feeling it was going to get dicey. He stroked his wife's cheek then closed his eyes. No need to worry about it till morning.


	2. Chapter 2

Author's notes: Hello everyone. Sorry for not including author's notes in my first chapter, I forgot all about it. I hope you all liked the first chapter, don't worry this one will be more action packed. I hope the first chapter also set the scene and the atmosphere very well. There are a lot of good characters and story potential in the resident evil games but sadly they rarely utilize that potential. So in this fanfic I am using less used characters, such as Bruce McGivern and Billy Coen. As for who the mysterious terrorist is, do you guys seriously not know the answer to that? LOL! Enjoy and please review.

[The next morning]

"What do you mean, there's a complication?" asked Billy as Carlos drove the RV carefully through the city traffic.

"It turns out this mission is now a rescue operation as well as sabotage," explained Bruce as he straightened his tie. All four of the men were dressed in black suits; they all had ski masks close by. "Someone sold this kid to the Chinese years ago; they've been experimenting with him to make super soldiers. And from what Ling told me, they might have already perfected the virus for that purpose," Bruce explained. He drew his Berretta and chambered a 9mm round. Billy checked his 44 magnum revolver. "We need to get him outa there and get that intel from the database. I figure we'll have about five minutes before we get any real response if the alarm goes off. Ling will take care of the kid; we'll take care of the exit. Blast our way out if we need to. Just keep to the plan," he finished.

"So we are depending on the wife you can never fully trust, amigo?" snickered Carlos.

"You know I will slug you one day," said Bruce.

"Whatever hombre," replied Carlos with a giggle.

"Let's just hope that's not the only last minute change we need to deal with, guys," said Kevin with a tired sigh. Kevin always seemed to be weary. He checked his pistol, then his shotgun. Kevin also checked his bag of C4; also part of the plan. The RV turned a sharp corner between two large buildings and into an alley.

"Okay, amigos, let's roll," said Carlos as he stopped the RV and put it in park. All four of the men exited the RV. Kevin headed for the back and ducked under to where the gas tank was. Bruce and the other two put on their ski masks and headed for the maintenance door in the back of the building. It looked like a normal office building from the outside, but looks can be deceiving. Bruce led the way, Billy had offered to go first but Bruce insisted. A leader who stays in the rear takes it in the rear. Bruce and Billy stood on either side of the door, Carlos got behind Billy and Kevin ran up and got behind Bruce (all four of them had their ski masks on and their weapons ready). Bruce readied the access card, prepared to swipe it through the slider.

"Stand by to breach and clear," said Bruce. "Three, two, one, breach!" he swiped the card and opened the door. He led the way through the narrow hallway, followed by Billy with his magnum, Carlos armed with an uzi and Kevin brandishing his shotgun. Bruce was relieved that they hadn't run into any of the staff yet. A moment later the luck ran out. A side door, evidently a janitor's closet, opened and a janitor emerged with a mop and bucket a few feet in front of him. Bruce didn't slow down; the Chinese janitor didn't even have time to be surprised. Bruce pistol whipped him on the side of the head, knocking him to the ground unconscious. Poor guy probably didn't deserve it, but there were bigger problems to deal with. The four of them made their way to the far end of the hall, to the maintenance door leading to the main lobby. The team stopped in front of the door, Bruce placed his hand over the knob. "Stand by to breach and clear, do not fire unless necessary," he warned his team. "Three, two, one, breach!" he finished as he turned the knob and pushed the door open.

The four-man team stormed out of the maintenance door and rushed into the lobby, guns at the ready. The people in the lobby didn't panic at first, armed gunmen barging in was clearly the last thing any of them expected. Bruce and the others quickly started shouting, in Chinese, for everyone to get down on the ground and not to do anything stupid. Bruce made a dash for the main reception desk in the center of the grand hallway. He saw the reception lady reaching under the desk, probably for the alarm.

"Stop or I'll shoot!" he shouted to her in Chinese. He was only a few feet away from her when she came back up with what looked like a small caliber pistol. Bruce dodged just in time to avoid being sprayed by a gust of pepper. She was going for a pepper spray gun; it was a cleaver idea, but more an act of panic than anything else. Bruce climbed to his feet without losing momentum and slid over the box shaped reception desk, tackling the girl and pressing his pistol to her head. "Drop it," he ordered, still in Chinese. The poor girl was close to panicking, but she did as he told her and let go of the pepper gun. He pulled her to her feet as gently but firmly as he could and pulled her out through a wooden flap in the desk, put there to allow the receptionist access into the box shaped desk.

Bruce looked over his shoulder to see that the others had gotten all the employees and civilians away from their desks and on the ground in the center of the hallway just a few yards away from the reception desk. Kevin rushed past Bruce toward the entrance, which was mostly blacked out glass; the lobby was lit by glass chandeliers hanging over head. Two security guards were rushing over, they had drawn their weapons. The two guards raised their pistols and began shouting at them to drop their weapons. They had hardly finished their sentences when Kevin fired his shotgun at both of them. Both men collapsed to the ground, writhing in pain. Bruce was relieved to hear the familiar, not nearly as loud, clunks of stun rounds. Kevin had planned ahead. The security guards were down but not dead. Kevin rushed over to the downed guards, kicked their guns away from them and ripped their radios off their belts; he tossed the radios across the lobby and threatened to shoot them with lethal rounds if they moved.

"Clear?" Bruce called out, over the low panicked murmurings of their captives. He dragged the receptionist over to huddle of captive employees and other civilians in the center of the lobby. All three of the others repeated his words to confirm that everyone in the lobby was accounted for. Billy was the last to call out; he had circled the entire lobby checking under and behind desks.

"No alarm, boss," said Billy as he approached Bruce, Carlos and the huddle of captives. It was a lucky break and Bruce knew it. He'd anticipated someone would sound the alarm and then it would be a rush for Ling to secure the intel and the kid. Now they wouldn't be limited by a wave of Beijing's finest within five minutes. But luck always came with a price tag; more security guards could be wondering around in the building and if anyone came in through the main entrance things could get really ugly fast.

"Billy, secure the main entrance," Bruce ordered. Billy rushed past Kevin and the downed guards; the main entrance was about 25 yards away from the receptionist's desk. Billy bolted the doors.

"Doors are secured," he called out. So far so good, at least they were secured from front and back. The RV was blocking off the only direct entrance/exit from the alley. And anyone who'd try to enter the building through the front door would probably think they closed early. Hopefully they'd be gone before anyone got suspicious. It was all up to Ling now, several stories above them.

"Whenever you're ready, honey," Bruce said softly into his radio.

Several stories up, his wife heard him in her earpiece. Ling wanted to tell him something about, not rushing art, but was too busy hacking the head scientist's computer. She had the benefit of looking much younger, so posing as a science student was easy. And in her school uniform, which included a mini-skirt and a tight top, she was able to get the middle aged lead scientist to drool over her relatively quickly. He'd enthusiastically led her on a tour of the entire complex, although of course he'd refused to let her in a large metal encased room entitled "Biohazard". Do doubt that was where the subject was. The creepy bastard had even copped a feel of her ass briefly as they made their way down the hall way, she pretended to be flattered and repressed an urge to knee him in the groin with all her will power. Bruce had better perform as well as he did last night, to make up for this! She knew he would. Getting the scientist to go get a few things for her from a vending machine, which she knew was at the far end of the floor, was a simple matter; she just did her best puppy dog face. She hated putting on an act like that and was glad to be away from most situations where such is necessary, no longer being a field agent, but she knew something had to be done about what the government (which she'd sworn loyalty to) was doing in this building. The boy deserved better than this.

She typed furiously; the data transfer was almost complete. The fat pig could be back anytime now. The percentage meter gave a slight ping when it reached 100%. She instantly snatched the flash drive from the hard drive and strode back to her chair in front of desk. The door clicked open just as she sat down; perfect timing. He greeted her with a smile, wrinkling his face further and exposing his yellowed teeth. Behind her smile Ling questioned herself as to how a biologist could have such poor dental hygiene.

"Here you are my dear," he said, placing the candies and the soda on his desk in front of her. She smiled sweetly and nodded in gratitude. "Now where were we?" he asked rhetorically. "How far exactly are you willing to go, to convince me that you are a loyal subject of the state and a potential biologist?" he asked as he turned and slowly began to circle around to his chair. Ling saw her chance and took it. Without making a sound she swiftly stood up from her chair, rushed up behind the lead biologist and slammed his head down onto his own desk with all her might. She felt the force of the impact break his nose, his body fell limp to the floor he writhed and moaned in pain, blood spurting from his nose. She swiftly kicked him in the groin with full force, the man passed out from the combined pain of a broken nose and the kick. Ling felt a dark pleasure in hurting him. Not just for being a pervert, but for the terrible things he'd done to people in his research, especially that poor boy. She dug into his jacket pocket and pulled out the access card for the biohazard zone. She then drew her silenced PPK from her purse. It was time to wake the kid up. She exited the room and made her way down the hall, where she would awaken a sleeping giant and fill him with a terrible resolve.

There was darkness, deep darkness. It seemed to be eternal; never beginning or ending. There were occasional bursts of light here and there. The light revealed a woman; a beautiful woman with smooth red hair and shining deep blue eyes. The boy recognized her; her name was unclear to him but he knew her face and he knew she was the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. He considered giving her the name, Beautiful; a fitting name. He knew she was brave, strong, smart, fun and kind. He knew that she had been beside him through terror and pain, and that there was nothing he wouldn't do to keep her safe. He wished with all his heart he could remember her name. He couldn't even remember his own name. Only one vision of her upset him; one of her crying and her hand pressed against his cheek. In the vision, he told her he was glad that he'd met her. He told her he loved her. Then the darkness would consume him again and there was only pain and loneliness.

He felt like he'd been adrift in the darkness for years. He felt like a shipwrecked castaway holding onto a life preserver, desperately looking for some sign of help. His only company was his visions of the woman. If only he could remember her name.

"Steven!" a woman's voice called to him. "Steven Burnside!" the voice repeated. The darkness seemed to flicker with new light as the voice called to him. It was as if the woman's voice was shaking the very fabric of the universe. "Steven, you need to wake up!" she called. Was it her? It must be! Has she finally found him? And the name she called. Burnside! Steven Burnside! That was his name! Suddenly the boy's mind was filled with memories and emotion, one moment there was nothing and then his entire life flashed before him. His father and mother, his hobbies, running track in High School, his mother's murder, his father's death, and her! As Steve entered into the light he gasped the name of the woman he loved.

"Claire!" Steve called out as he sat up on the hospital bed. It was more of a gasping cough, but it was the best he could do. The woman jerked back in surprise. "Claire!" Steve repeated. Then he looked at the woman, it wasn't her. This woman was Chinese, she was pretty and she looked a little bit older than him. A wave of disappointment rushed over him. "You're not Claire," he stated in bewilderment, he didn't even realize he was gasping for breath or shivering.

"No, my name is Ling," said the woman. Her voice was very mature; he guessed she must be in her mid thirties. "I'm working with a CIA agent, I've come to rescue you," she explained.

"Rescue me from what?" asked Steve. "Where am I?" he said, the last thing he remembered was blacking out on the floor of an underground facility in Antarctica. He had been hit by a very large tentacle and was certain he was dying. He gazed around his environment. He was in a very clean looking hospital room. At least he knew he wasn't dead and in a waiting room to be deemed whether or not he'd be let into heaven. Somehow, he was still alive. He guessed his injury wasn't nearly as bad as he thought it was.

"You are in Beijing, China," explained Ling. Steve blinked.

"China!" he gasped, gaining control of his breath. "How the hell did I get here?" he asked.

"You were sold to the Chinese government years ago," Ling explained. "They've been experimenting on you ever since."

"Wait a minute!" Steve cut her off. "Years ago, how long was I out?" he asked, exasperated. Ling paused, as if she was debating on whether to answer him or not.

"There's no time for questions now," she told him. "We need to get out of here fast. My team will answer all your questions later." He didn't like her answer, but he decided not to press the matter. All he could be sure of is that he was in a coma and she woke him up. Now was not the time to demand answers. And if what she said was true, then he was in a Chinese government facility and they probably wouldn't be okay with him checking out without their say so. He knew his best bet was to cooperate and get the hell out of Dodge.

"Okay," said Steve. "Lead the way," he said as he slid off the hospital bed. He was wearing hospital scrub pants and no shirt. His bare feet felt the coolness of the floor. He suddenly felt very good to be awake, which made him feel uneasy about Ling's refusal to answer how long he'd been out. He was also somewhat surprised that he was able to walk. He'd been in a coma for "years". He'd heard once that people who were in comas for long periods of time couldn't walk right away and needed wheelchairs, not that he was complaining. Ling nodded with approval and led him out of the room through an opened metal door, which looked like it was part of a bank vault. He finally noticed she was carrying a silenced pistol, a pistol he thought he'd seen in a few spy films, which made sense to him; she was clearly a spy.

He followed her down a long hallway to an elevator. She tapped the calling button. Then her eyes turned to him but looked past him down the hallway they'd just ran down. He turned to see a middle aged man wearing white lab coat staggering out of an opened door. His nose was bleeding profusely and he walked like he was limping in pain. Clutched in one of his hands was a syringe, filled with some strange pale green liquid. Something about the liquid sent chills down his spine. Before Ling could raise her pistol, the man in the lab coat stuck the syringe into his arm and pressed the liquid into his blood. Ling gasped. Steve turned to her to see her eyes had widened. She turned and furiously tapped the elevator button. Steve looked back to the man and his own eyes widened as he saw something he'd experienced firsthand.

The man's skin began to change color, it quickly changed to sickly pale green and his arms and legs began to bulge. His cloths began to rip and tear and his body grew too large for them. Within a few seconds he was three times his normal size; his body now filled the hallway and he looked toward Ling and him with murderous rage. With a loud roar he charged down the hallway towards the two of them. He was easily a few dozen yards away but he was closing the distance fast. Ling brought up her pistol, but Steve knew first hand she would need more than that. Soon red lights from the ceiling began to flash and a blaring alarm sounded, Steve figured it was the biohazard alarm; the sensors must have picked up the T-Veronica strain. Steve's instincts took over a part of him wanted to run in fear but to do so would mean betraying his rescuer and leaving her to die. His muscles flexed as he clenched his fists. Pure feral instinct took hold of him and he rushed forward to meet the charging hulk. He brought back his fist and leapt towards the charging T-Veronica mutation. He swung his fist into the beast's face with all his might. Much to Ling and Steve's shock, the monster's skull gave. Steve's fist plowed through the creature's frontal bone and through its brain. Splashes of blood and brain matter splattered in all directions. The remains of the creature (from the neck down) was flung backwards and thudded to the floor, shaking the very foundation of the building.

Steve looked down at the creature, taking in what he had just done. He was shocked that he hadn't transformed himself. Those doctors must have done their job well. He had charged something much larger and heavier than himself and won. It made him wonder what else he was capable of. He felt like he should cheer or give some kind of war cry in triumph. The ding of the elevator caught his ear. He turned to see the elevator door opened, he was surprised he had heard the ding over the blaring siren. Ling was standing in the hallway with her jaw dropped. Steve felt an urge to joke that he had that effect on women but shook it off as he remembered he was trying to escape.

"Ling," he called to her. Her eyes snapped away from the headless corps and back to him. "The elevator," he shouted over the siren and pointed to the opened door. Ling blinked.

"Right, let's go!" she shouted. They bother ran to the elevator. She pushed the button. They were both silent as they made their way down. The elevator lurched as they reached the ground level. The door dinged open and Steve soon found himself facing two armed men in ski masks. Steve's instincts took over again. He lurched forward grabbing both men by the throats and lifting them up off their feet. Ling was at his side almost instantly. "Steve, don't!" she shouted. Steve paused and turned his head to her. "They're with me!" she said.

"She's right Chico," said one of the two ski masked gunmen with a slight Hispanic accent. "It's all cool here."

"It won't be if you don't drop them," said another masked gunman, who'd run up to his side and was pointing a 44 magnum at him. Steve eased them both down and held out his bare palms in submission.

"Sorry, guys," he said calmly. "Things got a little crazy up topside," he explained nodding upwards. The two masked men gasped for breath for a few seconds.

"It's okay," said one of the two gunmen, from his accent Steve figured he was from the south western US; probably Texas. "I understand, you probably have a lot of questions and are pretty confused," said the man. "But it's okay, we're gonna get you outa here and we'll answer all your questions later," he finished.

"Okay," said Steve. "Just tell me what to do," he said passively. Steve could tell the man was serious and he sensed he could trust him. If worse came to worse, Steve figured he could easily beat these guys if they ended up betraying him (after what he'd done to the mutant).

"Good man," said the masked man with approval. Steve devised that he was the leader. "Okay boys let's keep to the plan," he called. "Let's make our way to the getaway car. Ladies and gents, yall have a real good day now, ya hear?" the last he said a huddle of people in the middle of the large and open lobby he now stood in. There were four gunmen, five including Ling. He followed them to a maintenance door nearby the elevator. They ran down a long and narrow hallway and emerged out the back entrance of the building. Steve looked up to see a clear blue sky. It was another reminder that he'd been in a coma for a long time, but to him it was a glorious site. The siren had been blaring even in the lobby and it was still audible outside. Steve could hear another set of sirens closing in. They were police sirens, and since they were the police force of the totalitarian government which had been holding him captive, Steve knew they were not a sound to be relieved by.

"This way, kid," the gunman with the magnum ordered. He'd taken off his ski mask to reveal a mature face with long dark brown hair. Steve repressed an urge to demand not to be called "kid". They made their way through a maintenance door of the corresponding building. Steve followed them down another narrow hallway and around a corner to a door which led into a garage, there was a large white van parked in it. Steve's five liberators quickly piled into the van, he followed suit. They had all shed their masks. There was a long haired blonde bearded man in the driver's seat (the leader), Ling was riding shotgun, and the dark haired man was sitting in the midsection next to the man with the Hispanic accent. Steve was sitting in the far back, beside another dark haired man with a shotgun.

"Okay let's roll," the leader called out. He pressed a button on the dash and the garage door opened in front of them. The Hispanic man quickly stripped off his suit jacket and handed it back to Steve.

"Put this on Chico," he said. "We'll look suspicious with a shirtless man in the back." Steve accepted the jacket with a nod and put it on quickly. They exited the garage to the sound of sirens blaring. The cops were barreling down the street towards them. The leader drove the van nice and casually in the opposite direction. Hopefully they wouldn't be suspicious of them. From what Steve could tell, they had just exited the far end of the building beside the one he was held captive in. With any luck, they'd just think they were businessmen who worked in the building. The drive coasted the van down the street nice and slow, like he didn't have a care in the world. Ling had been holding an earpiece to her ear since they'd exited the garage.

"They've cordoned off the main entrance," said Ling. Steve correctly devised that she was listening in on the police channel. "The police behind us are just arriving to secure the nearby buildings. Keep moving slowly and they may not suspect," she said. The van had already integrated itself with the steady traffic of the city. Steve gazed around the city; it looked like most other cities. Tall metallic skyscrapers, street lights and the sidewalks were filled with people. "The civilians have all fled out of the lobby and are in police custody, they police have surrounded the RV from a safe distance," she finished. The driver looked at her and smiled.

"Well then by golly, let's burn ourselves," he said. "Kevin, the Chinese invented fireworks; let's impress them," he finished with a wink towards Ling. Kevin (the man sitting next to him) pulled a small metallic stick from his coat and pressed the button. A loud explosion could be heard from a few blocks back. The shock of the blast shook the ground, for a moment Steve was nervous that the skyscrapers would topple. But the shock was over as quickly as it started. The driver changed lanes and turned down a highway ramp. They were well on their way, wherever they were going.

"No casualties reported," Ling said after a few minutes of driving in silence down the highway. "But the blast broke every window in both buildings," she finished with a smirk. "All the information you need to open a file on the Chinese government is right here," she said holding up a small clip-like device. Steve assumed it was some kind of data carrier for a computer. The driver reached over and took the device.

"You complete me, darling," he said and leaned over to kiss her, she moved into it. Steve was starting suspect it was like that between them. His mind flashed to Claire again. Where was she? Did she make it out of Antarctica? He had to know. "Mission accomplished everyone!" the leader announced as he pulled away from the kiss. "Mr. Burnside," he called back to Steve. "Welcome back to the world of the living." Steve was grateful for the man's cheery words but he needed answers.

"Thank you," Steve said in reply. "But how did I get here? How long was I in a coma? What did they do to me?" he asked. The blonde man behind the wheel sighed.

"Well, brace yourself kid," he answered. He then explained everything to him. Steve was grateful that they others remained silent. 13 years! During which he'd been used as a human experiment by the Chinese government. They had bought him from a man named Albert Wesker; who use to be in league with Umbrella but betrayed them. It was he who attacked Rockfort Island, allowing for Claire and him to escape. Steve was glad to hear that Wesker was dead, after Bruce (the leader) had filled him in on the man. Steve had been asleep for a decade, his whole family was dead, he was declared dead, and everything he ever had was gone. But he took comfort in the fact that Claire had made it out alive. He would have given anything to see her right then and there.

"Umbrella was destroyed?" Steve asked.

"Technically, yes," answered Bruce. "But lots of its employees and scientists got away. The lead scientist who was experimenting on you was a scientist working for Umbrella. After the downfall he ran back to his homeland, they knew what he could make and they took him back with open arms."

"How many more are out there?" asked Steve.

"A lot," Bruce answered. "It's our job to find em and kill em," he explained. Steve clenched his fist. He wanted revenge, not just for himself but for Claire and her brother, and his father and mother, and everyone who Umbrella wronged. What they did to him was monstrous! Steve also did the math; Claire was 32 years old now. She probably thought he was dead, she most likely moved on. Steve shook the thought from his head. He couldn't presume that now. He would find her and go to her, but not before he made the remnants of Umbrella pay. "You lookin for some payback, Steve?" asked Bruce. "Ling says you can handle yourself pretty good in a fight," he called back with a friendly smile. The others all looked at him in question.

"Oh you have no idea," Steve answered with a menacing grin. The unmistakable chopping sound of a helicopter roared over the van. Sirens blared up ahead of them. If Steve had any hopes of getting out of China without a hitch, they were dead now.

"Shit!" exclaimed Bruce. They were only minutes away from the airstrip and now Johnny Law showed up. All the traffic in front and behind them was stopping, he knew he'd have to do the same, it's not like he was driving the RV and could just plow through the traffic in front of him. He brought the van to screeching halt. The Chinese police cars came to a halt about thirty yards ahead of them, right in front of a few dozen cars full of civilians. Bruce swallowed hard when he saw two Chinese army trucks pulling up behind the cop cars. This was going to get ugly. "Carlos, time to break out the hard liquor," he said. Carlos nodded and opened up the metal case at his feet. He emerged with an RPG. Steve uttered a wow. "Billy, you and Ling are with me, we're gonna have to blast our way through these bastards. Kevin, keep an eye on Steve," he ordered.

"I can take care of myself!" Steve protested.

"Says the guy who was held captive for thirteen years," Kevin muttered wearily.

"You're our objective, Steve," said Bruce. "Just keep your head down, we'll take care of this," he said. He had no doubt the kid could take care of himself, for one thing he had a good pair of fists; his throat could vouch for that. But the Steve was not professionally trained and right now he needed precision in order to get Steve and his team out alive.

"Bruce, he's telling the truth," Ling broke in. "He can handle himself in a fight," she began to explain but Bruce cut her off.

"There's no time to argue here, darling," he said. "Those bastards are about to storm over here and," Bruce was cut off by a hail of bullets ripping into the windshield of the van. "Everyone out!" he shouted. The rest filed out of the van and knelt to the asphalt quickly. The cops and soldiers in front of the now parked traffic had started shooting. Bullets ripped through the cars in front to the six of them, ripping through glass, metal and human bodies. Horrified and agonizing screams were heard both in front and behind them. The bastards were slaughtering civilians to get to them.

"Stop shooting, you assholes!" Steve bellowed over the gunfire and screams. "There's innocent people here!" he roared. Kevin put a hand on his shoulder and held his index finger up to his lips. Steve listened. Bruce could tell Steve was repressing rage. A second chopper could be seen coming from the city on the horizon; that was the cue for the first chopper to start spraying the streets with lead. The bastards might have looked over security footage and followed the one van to leave the scene of the crime. They probably decided it would be easier to kill them, shooting up the entire highway. The next morning there would be a report about armed gunmen shooting up the highway and slaughtering civilians, only for the police and People's Liberation Army to come heroically to the rescue, slaughtering in enemies of the people; case closed. Bruce knew he had to think fast. He remembered the smoke grenades.

"Everyone pop smoke," he called out. "Then we move up and hit em with live grenades." The four gunmen pulled smoke grenades from their belts and tossed them forward. Red smoke began to sizzle out of the grenades; a moment later smoke was flowing from the grenades as if from a chimney. Billy reached inside the van quickly and emerged with an item from a metal case at his feet. It was a grenade launcher. Soon the red smoke was filling the traffic in front of them. The chopper swung around the smoke coming in for a closer look at the white van. Carlos raised the RPG and fired. The rocket hit the police chopper head on, the front of the chopper burst into a ball of fire. The chopper fell to the deserted one way road parallel to the one they were on.

"Good shot, Carlos," Billy said with a thumbs up, Carlos nodded.

"Carlos, reload and take out the other chopper," said Bruce. "Billy, Ling, come with me. We need to hit these guys, stay low," he ordered. He led his wife and teammate into the red smoke. He prayed they had enough fire power to take them out.

Steve was not happy about being left behind with a babysitter. After what he'd done back at the facility, he felt like he could handle anything. If only Ling had been able to tell Bruce. The chopper was closing in on them, it would start shooting anytime. Carlos was reloading the RPG and Kevin was emptying stun slugs from his shotgun and replacing them with buckshot.

"Hey, how about a gun?" Steve asked with his hand outstretched.

"How about no?" replied Kevin with a cocky grin.

"A little busy at the moment," Carlos answered, raising the RPG. He fired. The rocket went straight for the chopper but veered to the right at the last second (which Steve had heard that RPGs tend to do). The chopper easily avoided the rocket and began firing at the three of them. Carlos dodged to left, Kevin and Steve dodged right. They all took cover behind civilian vehicles, already riddled with bullets blood flowing out of parts of them. "Shit! That was the last one!" shouted Carlos. Kevin muttered something incoherent, Steve figured it was a curse, and started firing his shotgun at the chopper. Steve knew they would need something bigger than that. He looked around frantically; all he could see was a bunch of cars and…a motor cycle. Steve had a wild idea. He crouch walked five yards to the downed motor cycle, it's owner laying in a pool of his own blood. His helmet was on, so he couldn't tell if it was a man or woman. Claire flashed through his mind again; she'd told him she drove a motor cycle. He shook the thought from his mind. She wouldn't be here.

"Kid, what the hell are you doing? Get back here!" shouted Kevin. The chopper was coming closer, perfect. Steve grabbed the motor cycle by its handle and with a swift fluid motion he swung it over his head and threw it at the low flying chopper. The motor cycle smashed through the windshield of the chopper, which rocked backwards then spun out of control. It crashed in the open field alongside the highway, erupting into a blazing inferno. Kevin quickly turned from the downed chopper to Steve, his jaw dropped. Carlos ran up behind him, his face was as shocked as Kevin's. Steve gave a cocky smile of his own.

"Imagine what I could do with a gun," he said.

Bruce fired furiously at the cops and soldiers. The few grenades he and Billy had thrown had taken out the leading cop cars and a handful of the cops. Billy's grenade launcher made swift work of the remaining cop cars. Most of the rest of the cops charged forward with guns blazing. The three of them had quickly downed the cops. The soldiers were armed with assault rifles and body armor, and grenades of their own. A few seconds ago Bruce had seen the second chopper go down while reloading. He hopped the others didn't try to do anything heroic; even if they did they probably wouldn't last a second. He wished he could call in for air support, but Langley had been reluctant just to let him take the mission and improvise; the mission itself was breaking enough rules on its own. Billy fired his grenade launcher, blasting an army truck to shrapnel, a handful of soldiers were knocked to the ground by the blast. Most of them probably wouldn't get up.

"Damn, that was the last of them!" Billy groaned as he drew his magnum and began firing. Most of the red smoke had cleared and Bruce could make out another Army truck pulling up behind the other. Bruce checked his ammo; he was down to his last clip. Billy and Ling's ammo probably wouldn't last much longer. It would take a miracle to get them out of this alive.

As if on cue a small sports car was flung by an unseen force into the second Army truck. Some of the soldiers dodged aside in time, some didn't. With a burst of speed, a red haired teenage in a black suit jacket was at point blank range of the Chinese Army soldiers. He used the moment of his sprint to kick the first soldier he reached. The soldier flew into the smashed truck behind him. Steve raised a 9mm pistol and fired into six soldiers one by one; less than a secant for each shot. Steve dodged as bullets flew towards him from behind the wrecked truck. He leapt to the top of the wreck in the blink of an eye and began shooting downwards, no doubt onto the unsuspecting soldiers. He jumped down to the other side of the wrecked truck, more gunshots were heard as well as the unmistakable smack of fists against flesh.

Bruce, Ling and Billy stood in bewilderment. They were all speechless. What they had just seen was impossible! Bruce blinked as he remembered what Ling had told him about the experiments the Chinese had been performing on Steve. Bruce figured Steve might be a little stronger and faster; that choke-hold back at the facility had proven at least that much. But this was insane! Steve had thrown a sports car like it was a softball. And the way he moved, the soldiers didn't stand a chance. Kevin and Carlos ran up behind him, their eyes as wide with shock as his. Bruce turned to his wife, who was standing beside him.

"What was that about the kid being able to take care of himself again?" he asked her. She turned to him. Her eyes were less wide than his. She had seen Steve do something like this earlier. Soon all gunfire ceased. Steve emerged from behind the smoking remains of the tuck with Kevin's side arm in hand and a smug grin on his face.

"We gonna stand around here waiting for round two?" Steve asked. "Or are we gonna get the hell outa here?" he finished.


	3. Chapter 3

Author's notes: Glad to see everyone's enjoying this fic. I've actually been working on this concept in my mind this 2010, but only now have I figured out how to make it work. I always did like Steve. In the game he comes off as annoying at first but he does kinda grow on you. Also I'm mainly basing my opinion of the character on the novelization of the game (Code Veronica, by S D Perry). In the book Steve gets fleshed out a lot more. Also, Steve and Claire share one of the few confirmed romances of the games. There are loads of cool guy and hot women characters in the RE games, but so far only three confirmed romances; Steve-Claire, Bruce-Ling and Jake-Sherry. I hope you enjoy this next chapter and please review.

Claire grasped the photograph with both hands; it was starting to bend where her fingers clenched it. McMorris had handed it to her a moment ago. It was a photograph snapped from a helicopter, shortly before it was hit by a motorcycle. It showed a young man in his late teens standing on a shot up highway. He was in bear feet with a black suit jacket, no shirt, and hospital scrub pants. His hair was red and his eyes were blue. She knew the man; it was a man she had fallen in love with years ago, a man she thought was dead.

"Steve!" she gasped his name. Her hands quickly began to tremble. After a few seconds she couldn't control herself anymore; tears flooded her eyes. She leaned her head down into her hands, now cupping the photo, and cried. She couldn't think of what else to do, she felt so many different emotions. She was overjoyed that Steve was still alive, she was filled with sorrow that he hadn't been found years earlier, and ashamed of herself for giving up on ever seeing him again. She cursed herself for not searching for him herself. She was terrified at what the UN representatives had said he'd become, a living weapon of mass destruction; a terrorist. She was also furious to be crying in a room full of people, who clearly brought her here knowing there would be an emotional reaction to this. That English bastard had torn into her heart and now she couldn't even keep it hidden with dignity. Almost immediately after she started crying, she felt Rebecca and Jill's hands on her shoulders. She had gotten to know them both pretty well after Chris had rescued her from Antarctica, it felt better to feel the touch of friends. But the humiliation and the rest of the emotional toll of what McMorris had just shown and told her was still burning in Claire's mind.

"You bastards!" Jill snapped in anger, almost shouting. Claire was starting to regain control of herself. She wiped her eyes and saw that Jill had stood up. "Give me one good reason why I shouldn't break your nose!" she demanded of McMorris, who maintained his unemotional demeanor and looked back at her blankly.

"I could give you four of them," McMorris replied calmly. A second later the door to the room opened and four armed suits appeared. They were all armed with military grade 12 gauge shotguns and were pointing them at the three women. A few of the UN representatives shook with nervousness, McMorris and the English woman didn't even flinch. "I understand you're all upset about this, ladies," he said, trying to sound soothing. "But I assure you this is all necessary, we have been trying to catch this man ever since he resurfaced two months ago in China. Everything we've thrown at this man, if he can still be called a man, has been ineffective. He is much faster and stronger than any soldier. He is also smarter and has higher reflexes than any human being. Best we can figure, the lead scientist of that facility was trying to develop a super-soldier (for lack of a better word) for the Chinese government."

"Which, I would like to assure you all," interrupted one of the Chinese representatives, an older man, as he stood up. "The Chinese government had no knowledge of. Dr. Lao did what he did, without authorization from the government; using our finances to fund what he thought would please us," he finished; his voice was unwavering and definitive. Claire was not convinced, nor did she think Jill and Rebecca were. Jill slowly sat down, in furious submission. She placed her hand back on Claire's shoulder, Claire gently brushed it off.

"I'm fine now," said Claire. She had to be strong now. She had already let them see her in a state of weakness; she had to give a show of strength to save what little dignity she had left. Claire straightened her posture. She took a brief glance at the photograph of Steve then looked up into the cold calculating eyes of McMorris. "Steve hasn't contacted me in any way over the past year, if that's what you're about to ask me," she stated firmly. Her strength had returned and she was now fueled by anger to keep it. Her last sentence had also awoken another anger in her. Why hadn't Steve tried to contact her?

"We had intended to ask that," replied McMorris. "Though your reaction to the photo answered it well enough," he added, his coldness expressed no blatant mocker but had a snobbish tone. Claire's resolve grew stronger than ever.

"So, Mr. Whoever-The-Hell-You-Are," Claire turned to the older Chinese man who had spoken a moment ago. "This scientist spent years in one of your government laboratories spending billions-if-not-trillions of dollars, turning Steve into a super-soldier that would make Heinrich Himmler proud," she said, doing little to conceal her rage. "And your government had just no idea what he was doing and no say in or quality control over his work whatsoever?" she asked, her distrust blatantly obvious by her words alone; her tone of voice simply magnified it.

"Dr. Lao was formerly a scientist working for Umbrella Corporation," explained the Chinese representative, still standing. Claire rolled her eyes, she didn't figure the remnants of Umbrella would ever be found; which she was fine with so long as they remained cowering under whatever rocks they'd crawled under. "He was one of the finest students of the National Science University and when he returned to us, our government deemed it necessary to preserve the reputation of our Science University. Of course we now see that was a mistake. The government assigned him to a lab and gave him access to as much financing as he needed to redeem himself by developing new useful technology for China and the rest of the world. Knowing his generous all too well, the government chose to give him as much space as possible to assure favorable results." He finished. Claire smirked darkly, covering a most unpleasant sneer.

"You gave an industrial scientist unlimited funds, an advanced laboratory and didn't even keep tabs on him?" she asked rhetorically. "Not to call anyone a liar, comrade, but I seriously doubt that," she finished with a wink. The older man grimaced and sat down. It made no sense, China may have opened its markets and allowed for private ownership (albeit highly regulated) but the Chinese government was every bit the overbearing manipulating communism it had been since 1949. The Chinese Government had a hand in what they did to Steve, heck it was probably the reason why they took Lao back in the first place. Of course they probably kept it off the books and only a handful of people actually knew what was going on in that lab. Case closed; deniability. "What happened to Steve after that?" Claire asked. Hoping for some insight on why he didn't go to her first.

"The five of them and their accomplice, who is yet to be identified, all vanished without a trace after the incident on the highway," explained McMorris. "We assume they escaped using a small plane from the nearby airstrip, they must have outfitted it with a radar jammer. That was the last confirmed sighting of him until just two months ago in Lanshiang, shortly after your brother reported the destruction of the offshore underwater facility established by Neo-Umbrella," he went on. "That night, two Chinese government facilities were hit simultaneously; One by Burnside and the other by his cohorts."

[2 months earlier: Lanshiang, China; midnight]

Dr. von Essen watched with the security monitors with relief. There were two dozen Chinese Special Forces soldiers in the building and over fifty security personnel. Von Essen had always found the extra security to be a bother and, he thought, a potential security hazard, but after what happened in Beijing, the Chinese government wasn't about to take any chances; not only for the risk of intrusion but of one of their subjects getting out. Von Essen was relieved that all the test subjects and virus samples had been incinerated hours ago, during the early stages of the outbreak in the city. It was a shame to see all those specimens go, but Von Essen knew the risks. He had worked for Umbrella years earlier and could well remember what the Raccoon City incident did to the company. He went into hiding for years, until the Chinese found him and gave him a chance to have a normal life again. No more using aliases, no more holding his breath every time a police car drove by, no more hiding out in third world countries; ones where no one decent wants to live. It was very hard on a middle aged man.

"Doctor," one of the Special Forces soldiers called to him from the doorway. "The chopper will be here in a few minutes, it will take you to Beijing," he said. Von Essen kept his eyes on the security screens in front of him. The security room wasn't that big but he could see almost every inch of the building at the touch of a button. The screen he was focused on was the one showing the front steps of the building. The security forces were holding their own against a mass of T-virus carriers, limping lazily towards the building's main entrances. They had all been instructed to go for head shots, the diseased wretches were falling by the handful.

"What about the others?" Von Essen asked as he pointed to the screens showing the security forces on the ground level. He had asked out of curiosity, not concern.

"There will only be room for you on the chopper," replied the soldier. Von Essen smirked and nodded. That took care of his security concerns. He knew the Special Forces soldiers had no qualms about being left battle a horde of diseased cannibals, and if any of the security forces were lucky enough to survive the ordeal they would be made heroes and given all manner of honors and rewards from the government. Of course, if any of them were to survive and hold a grudge against the government they would be victims of unfortunate traffic accidents; and since no one wants to explain gunshot wounds in a car accident, no autopsies would be performed. Von Essen smiled at the thought; the Chinese were quite proficient at covering things up. Von Essen's father had been a Nazi scientist during the Second World War. The Nazis were foolish enough to document every singer atrocity they ever committed and as a result his father had to go into hiding as well; fate it seemed. His father had died a drunk in Argentina, but Von Essen had taken up science as well and was specially selected by Umbrella Corporation to help develop their viral weapons. Umbrella wasn't quite as proficient as China though; a few leaks sank that ship. Von Essen was certain that it would take a great deal more than a few rogue police officers to take down the People's Republic of China.

"Doctor, look there," said the soldier, pointing to one of the screens showing the front steps of the building. Von Essen had zoned out but was snapped back into attention instantly. He looked at the screen the soldier was pointing to and saw a man wearing a black duster, a hood pulled over his head. The soldiers had stopped shooting. The man was punching and kicking the T-virus carriers; whoever he was he was a formidable fighter. His speed seemed to be a match even for the Special Ops soldiers up on the top floor with Von Essen. The man was wearing camouflage pants and steel toed boots. A white T-shirt could be seen under the opened jacket; an American flag was embroidered on the front of the shirt. "Don't worry Doctor, it's probably just the BSAA," said the soldier. But something about the young man mad Von Essen uneasy. Only a bit of the man's face was visible beneath the hood. He had light red hair.

The man kicked the last of the standing carriers aside then turned to the security forces just a few yards in front of him. Von Essen fumbled for the button that turned on the audio for the screen of interest; all security cameras were equipped with a small but powerful microphone. The security forces, over a dozen of them, had their guns trained on the man. One of them called out to him in Chinese.

"At ease there, soldier," the man called out in a friendly, but oddly familiar, voice. "I'm just here to help, BSAA," he said, his hands held up in submission. Von Essen was not convinced; something was off about the man.

"Identification?" asked the same security guard, in English. The man smirked under the hood.

"Sure thing, boss," he said, his right hand reaching down into the inside of his duster. "Got my ID right here," the man said. In the blink of an eye the man drew an Ingram sub machinegun and opened up on the dozen armed guards in front of him, Von Essen jerked back as if struck himself. In another second the man drew another Ingram and was shooting at the guards still standing. All the guards on the front steps were laying dead on the ground, none of them had fired a shot. The hooded man looked up into the security camera and smiled. The feeling hit Von Essen like a slap to the face, the man was coming for him.

"All security to the main lobby," Von Essen ordered as he turned to the soldier in horror, don't let that man get to the elevator!" he shouted. He had forgotten that he had no authority over the soldiers and security, but the soldier seemed to be of a similar mindset.

"Intruder alert," the soldier spoke into his radio, in Chinese. "All security forces to the main lobby, hold at all cost." Von Essen looked back to the screen just in time to see the man start to run up the steps toward the main lobby. Von Essen didn't bother to look for the small screen of the lobby, he brought up the lobby camera feed on the biggest screen; a plasma screen hanging from the ceiling. Security guards armed with assault rifles and wearing body armor poured into the lobby and faced the main entrance; about twenty yards in front of them. Barely a second later a hail of 9mm bullets ripped into the guards, some of them ducked for cover, others opened up on the oncoming enemy; most of them fell to the ground with fresh bullet wounds. A few seconds later the man leaped into the gaggle of security guards. Von Essen and the soldier's jaws both dropped in shock. The man was swinging gun-equipped fists into guard's faces and knocking armed men aside with his boots then spraying them with bullets. One of the guards tried to grab him from behind, only to have his teeth knocked down his throat by fist and metal. In a few moments, all the remaining security guards were dead. Over fifty men, all of them heavily armed and trained killers; yet none of them could do anything to stop this man. The man smiled up at the security camera and headed for the elevator. That was all Von Essen could take.

"Where is that chopper?" asked Von Essen, his face twisted in terror.

"Thirty seconds out," the soldier replied, with not show of fear or any other emotion. "Come with me," he said. Von Essen didn't need to be told twice. The soldier led him out of the security room and down the hallway to the stairs that would lead to the roof. The soldier shouted orders to the other Special Forces soldiers who were moving into positions in the hallway, five of them headed down the hall in the opposite direction; toward the elevator. Von Essen's mind flooded with panic. What kind of man is he? Is he even human? Maybe he's infected with the C-virus. Two more soldiers joined them as they entered the stairwell. Gunfire erupted down the hall from them. "Move!" the soldier shouted. The four of them started running up the stairs, two at a time.

The soldier pushed open the door to the roof and rushed out, grabbing Von Essen by the shoulder and dragging him at quickened pace. A familiar chopping sound and a blinding spotlight told Von Essen that his rescue chopper had arrived. The chopper slowly inched down toward the roof. When the chopper was about ten feet from landing a hail of bullets zipped around Von Essen. He fell flat on the roof. The two soldiers who joined him at the stairwell were lying dead behind him and the leader of the unit, who had turned and tried to fire at the man, was now laying flat on his back; his lungs wheezing and gurgling for breath as blood spurted from several gunshot wounds in his chest. The doctor looked up to see the hooded man raise his Ingrams to the chopper hovering above them and fire at the cockpit of the plane. The plane jerked to the side and began to spin out of control. He had hit the pilot. The plane spiraled downward, seconds later an explosion was heard from the street below. The man took a few steps closer to Von Essen, reloading his guns as he walked. Von Essen stumbled onto his back and began to crawl backwards, forgetting that nothing was behind him but the ledge of the building.

"Who are you?" he shouted at his attacker, the hooded man continued to step closer to him; a casual stroll, like he didn't have a worry in the world. "What do you want with me?" Von Essen demanded. "Do you want money? I can get you money. I can get you anything you want!" he shouted, almost whimpering.

"My father wanted money," said the man as he stopped only few feet away from Von Essen. "I want something different. Stand up Dr. Von Essen," the man ordered. The doctor did as he was told, every bone and muscle in his body trembled as he stood up.

"Who are you?" Von Essen repeated his question. The man removed the hood, revealing the face of a young man, his light red hair blazed like the fires in the most of the buildings throughout the city. His eyes were blue and expressed a deeply emotional pain.

"Don't you recognize me, Doctor?" he asked; his voice one of mocked confusion but his face remained cold and stern. "You went to a few of my High School Track meets," he explained. "My father use to work for you," he said. Von Essen's eyes widened with recognition and surprise. It was Burnside's boy, Steven; the son of that bastard who stole Umbrella's secrets and tried to sell them. But how could he be alive? He was sent to Rockfort; to that maniac Ashford.

"You!" gasped Von Essen. "You're supposed to be dead!" he shouted in surprise.

"Sorry to disappoint," replied Steve.

"The BSAA has no authority to arrest me!" Von Essen insisted, remembering what Steve had said to the security guards outside the building.

"Who said anything about arresting you?" Steve asked. "And I lied by the way, I'm not BSAA," he said. "And to answer your question, I want justice," he finished and raised both his guns.

"Wait, please listen to me," Von Essen whimpered, throwing up his hands in submission. "All I did was report your father, as per company policy. I didn't have a say in what they did to him," he lied in hysteria. It had been his order to send Steve's father to Rockfort, he had told the security forces to do whatever they saw fit with Steve and his mother.

"So you didn't tell them to shot my mother to death in our house?" asked Steve. "And you didn't tell them to send my father and I to Rockfort Island and tell them to infect my father with the T-virus, for the purpose of forcing me to put him down," he went on, ranting in anger.

"I swear I had no part in it," Von Essen pleaded, trembling so badly he nearly fell backwards over the edge of the building.

"Sure you did," said Steve, his calm restored. "Just like everyone else who knew what Umbrella was up to had something to do with it, even my father; who chose to sell that information rather than hand it over to the authorities. But don't worry, you're about to end up the same as him," Steve finished, taking aim.

"Steven, please!" gasped Von Essen. "This is not justice, this is insanity!" he insisted. Steve paused and lowered his guns.

"Insanity?" Steve asked. Von Essen looked back at him in terror, lost for words. "No, this is the sanest thing I've ever done," he said. "This is vengeance!" he finished, shouting. In a split second, Steve kicked Von Essen in the chest with full force, knocking the wind out of him and sending him flying over the edge of the building. Von Essen felt himself soar downward at tremendous speed, he tried to scream in horror but the kick had knocked the breath from his lungs. He didn't even feeling the impact, or his body splattering on the pavement; spraying a nearby herd of zombies with blood and entrails, soon the zombies became aware of his splattered remains. A hand full of them knelt to the ground and ate their fill.

Steve looked down on the street below to where the man responsible for the death of his mother and father hand landed. It was a fitting end for him to be killed and devoured by his work. The bastard deserved worse, but it would have to do. Steve turned his attention to the street at the base of building, three Chinese army trucks had just pulled up. Good, two birds with one stone; revenge and a successful diversion. The rest was on Bruce and the team.

Steve's reflexes kicked in just in time for him to dodge a snipers bullet from a far off building. He turned towards the shooter, too far away even for him to see clearly, and smiled. He then leaped forward plummeting thirty stories and landed with a loud thud, right in the middle of the gaggle of Chinese Special Forces troops. There were about fifty of them in all, they stumbled away from him in surprise; the force of the impact and the gust of crushed asphalt may have had something to do with it as well. In a matter of seconds, all the soldiers had their guns trained on him. Steve smirked. It was time for round two.


End file.
